Once Upon a Time in Hobbiton
by Sariahisadork
Summary: A Sucidal teen girl attempts sucide. Gets transported somehow to Hobbiton and find relief and acceptance from her new hobbit friends. Can they fix her?
1. Life As it is

Christina Fisher awoke with a jolt. Her sweat covered body was shaking uncontrollably. The petite girl rubbed her eyes noticing her blanket was missing; it was now a heap on the floor, along with the many pillows that usually layered her bed. The bright morning sunlight was leaking over her shivering body. She looked out the open window at the beautiful surroundings; the birds were chirping their happy spring song. The morning dew covered her window. She smiled at the sight. Maybe today would be different. Maybe she would be in her old room. Maybe her mother would be in the kitchen fixing her and her father her infamous apple cinnamon pancakes, and her dad would be sitting in his old torn up Lazy Boy recliner reading the newspaper. Maybe everything would be fine again.  
She reached to her night stand and grabbed the ponytail holder she kept there all the time, out of habit, and pulled her long blonde, limp hair into a ponytail. Examining her room she soon realized everything hadn't changed. She was still in her small, grimy room.  
She paused and rubbed her eyes again. She was so tired. Not just physically tired, but mentally and emotionally too. She missed being a kid. As she lazily sat up in bed yawning, she glanced at her clock. It was 10:15.  
Oh no! She thought as she jumped off her naked mattress. Daddy is going to have my head for sleeping in so late! She quickly picked up her usual outfit, a grungy white shirt and worn jeans, then put them on in a hurry. Just as she pulled the shirt over her head, her father stepped into the room. He was wearing a white wife beater and also very worn jeans. There were holes in the knees of them, and they were now a very faded blue. He had a sickened look on his face as he looked at his weak daughter. "Still in bed at 10 in the morning? How lazy can you get Christy?" In his hand was his brown belt, the one Christina had feared for many years.  
The small sixteen-year-old hugged her knees at the end of her bed as she peered at her father. "I...I'm sorry Daddy. I...I..." She started to say but was interrupted by her father again, but this time, it wasn't a word he said. He had drawn back the belt, and was now pelting it against her boney back.  
_  
  
When her mother had died, Christina was only 10 years old. Before that, her family was what you would call the all–American family. Her mother would always be at home, cleaning the house, cooking, and the typical mom stuff. Her father wasn't abnormal either. He used to work a great job where he earned a nice pay. Her typical morning back then would always be waking up to the smell of delious cooking mixed with the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Her mother would always make the two of them a 5-star meal and her father would always read the sports or business section of her morning newspaper as he sipped his coffee from the mug she and made him for a previous Father's Day that always read something like "I Love you Daddy" With some kind of picture decorating it, then kiss each of them goodbye as he left for work.  
  
Christina would never forget the day that her mother had been diagnosed with AIDS. She had had a great day at school. She was in the 3rd grade and her teacher had given her a star sticker on her spelling test, with, in great big red letters, "Great Job!" She was so excited to show her mom, she knew that she would be proud of her.  
When she ran through the front door of her old house that day after school with the test in her hand, her mother was on the floor crying like a baby.  
"Mommy?" The young Christina asked as she walked with a daze to her mother. Her mother looked up; her eye make up was running down her cheek along with black tears. "What's the matter, Mommy?"  
"Oh baby." She lifted her arm and hugged her around the waist, holding her tight. "Mommy is..." She paused looking her daughter in the eyes. "Mommy is very sick."  
The young Christina pulled away from her mother. "Oh that's alright mommy! Don't cry over that, it's no big deal. You can take some of my vitamins! And we have tissues!" Christina started to walk away to grab some tissues from the nearby table.  
"Honey, it's not that simple." Her mother looked over at her as more tears poured down her pale face. "Mommy is very sick. Vitamins or tissues won't make it better."  
"You mean that you won't ever get better?"  
Her mom nodded her head in response.  
"Are...are you gonna die?" Christina's eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of her mother leaving her.  
Her mother looked at her young daughter, unable to tell her the realness of her disease. "Eventually I will darling." She took her daughter's head in her hands and kissed her forehead lightly, then wrapped her arms around her.  
Christina soon found out that she had had the HIV virus for along time, but being that she never was able to get to the doctors, she now had AIDS, and had also had it for along time, she would die in a few more years.  
  
The days of Christina's mother living with AIDS passed in a blur. She watched her get weaker and weaker. Everyday Christina would have to become more independent. She was not only taking care of herself, but her mother too. Soon, her mother was in a hospital bed 24/7. It was hard seeing the most beautiful woman she had ever seen be so weak and helpless. She remembered when her mom was a strong woman. In Christina's eyes, no matter how her mother looked, she was still a super hero. As her mother got weaker, so did her father. He didn't get weak in the same way her mother did. He was breaking down. Soon after he found out about it, he began smoking again. He would miss several days of work in a row, getting drunk and smoking in front of the TV. Soon he lost his job. When her mother died, so did Christina's way of life. 


	2. The Sucide Attempt

Hours later Christina was laying on her side on the couch of the living room. Her back was puffy and swollen red from her punishment that morning. Her father was gone, she wasn't sure where, probably out to get more cigarettes or beer, maybe even in a bar somewhere.  
She arose miserably from the stained couch and walked to the bathroom to examine her wounds. The small bathroom was small and dirty, but it worked for just two people living in the house. The tiled floor hadn't been moped in ages, nor had the toilet been cleaned. It was gross, but it was life. She lifted her grubby white shirt up over her head, relieving her scarred bare chest. She sat with tears running down her pale cheeks, checking the reflection in the mirror. Her hand ran along her stomach, tracing the dark scars with her fingers. She remembered most of the ugly marks; they were all painful memories of her father. She proceeded to move her fingers to her chest, where several cut marks wore deep into her skin. These hadn't been from her father though, they had been from herself. She remembered the first time she had done it, it was also the first time her father had hit her:  
_  
  
"Why did you not cleaning up your dishes Christie?" Her father and she had just gotten back from her mother's funeral. It was exactly 6 years and two months ago, to the day. Christina (her parent's are the only people who ever called her Christie.) was crying hysterically at the moment, and was in no mood to put away dishes.  
"But Daddy, I don't want to." She continued to sob with her hands cupping her cheeks.  
"Listen young lady! You will do it! I am upset about your mother...dying too." He hesitated at the 'd word' "I loved her very much too. Now go do it!" Her dad was now pointing a finger at her, his face was red with anger.  
"No!" Christina responded threw gasps of air. "I won't do it, at least not now."  
"You won't huh?" Her father began to remove is black belt from his waist. "Then you will be punished instead." He threw back the belt in his tough hand, and brought it forward, hitting Christina in the side. She began crying harder. "Will you shut up!? I am getting a headache from all of your crying!"  
"Why did you hit me Daddy?" She asked threw gasps of pain as she grabbed her side.  
"Because you are a very bad girl, now go do it!" He hit her again, this time on the back. She stood up and hobbled to the sink to do what her father had asked.  
Later the evening she had decided to take a shower. The hot water stung her new wounds as it poured onto her back. She remembered just seeing her fathers shaver in the shower set her off. She, what seemed like naturally, broke the shaver, and cut madly at her inner thigh. The pain had numbed after the first slice; the only thing she could feel now was relief; relief of all her anger, her sadness, and troubles. It made her feel whole again. That was the start of it all...  
_  
  
Christina now turned around as she stared at her bruised and scarred back. She examined the new wound and carefully placed some "ouch cream" as her mother has once called it. It stung at first, but slowly made the aching pain go away.  
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she soon began to cry. She didn't hold back anything. All she could think about was the bad things in her life. She slowly reached for "the box" that she kept in a bathroom drawer. She opened it to relive several different tools: a dozen needles, a broken shaver blade, a knife she had stolen from the kitchen, and a few razor blades. She chose her favorite one; A small razor blade that had a few speaks of dried blood from previous occurrences covering the tip. She began to slice at her wrists. All she wanted to do at the moment was die, she wished desperately that she would. Drops of her blood fell to the floor as her vision became blurred. But she continued to cut, deeper and deeper as the puddle on the floor became bigger. Black spots started to dance along her stream of vision as she felt a tear fall to her cheek. "Is this what dieing is like?" She asked herself as she fell to the floor, somehow managing to dodge the pile of blood. "It doesn't seem all that bad..." She whispered again to herself just as her vision went blank. 


	3. Have I Died?

Sunlight trickled on Christina's nose as she began to open her eyes. Have I died? She wondered to herself, hoping that she was. She opened her eyes slightly, revealing a beautiful woman's face peering down at her. The woman had blonde hair that was folded elegantly inside of a white cloak. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, and she had...pointed ears. Blinding light surrounded them, though her vision was very hazy. The beautiful woman had a slight smile as she placed her hand on Christina's cheek and began to speak in the most beautiful and peaceful voice Christina had ever heard. "No my dear child, you are not dead. Now you must rest; for your soul is weak. I give you my word that you will be well taken care of. Now sleep." The woman reached forward and kissed her on the forehead, Christina closed her eyes again and fell into the most peaceful sleep she had ever had in her life.  
Hours later, Christina awoke again, this time not the face of the beautiful woman. She opened her eyes slightly, adjusting to the dull lights surrounding her. The first thing that she noticed was that her legs hung off the edge of the bed. The bed was nearly a foot to short! As she peeked her head up to examine the rest of her surroundings, she realized it was actually quite cozy. A dull fire crackled in a brick fireplace next to her. To the side of the bed was a wooden night stand that looked handcrafted, a jug of water was atop it. The rug on the floor was merry colors; it made her smile to look at the small room. Indeed, it was very small. The ceiling looked about 2 or 3 feet above her head, hardly tall enough for anyone to stand up in. But the place did have a very comforting feel too it.  
As she arose from the bed, careful not to bump her head on the ceiling, she noticed that her wrists had been bandaged properly. This made her wonder; she quickly lifted up her shirt revealing the once large gashed on her back, they were also attended to. This puzzled the young girl profusely.  
Just then a small man that rose only to the upper waist of the young girl came whistling merrily into the room with a jug of steaming water in his arms.  
"Oh, you're awake!" The small man looked gleefully surprised up at the young girl who was now hunched over attempting to stand up. "Sit down ma'am! No need to break your back attempting to become as short as myself!" Christina sat carefully on the bed, still eyeing the curious fellow. His head was full of bundles of short, brown curls. He was wearing a sort of brown and green suit, and was barefoot. His feet were quite curious as well; they were at least twice the size of her own, and a mound of black fuzz covered each.  
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he replaced the water.  
"I...I'm feeling...fine actually." Christina surprised herself at her response. For nearly dying, she did feel quite well.  
"Your one of those humans aren't you?" The small man asked after a long silence, smiling up at her. His eyes twinkled happily.  
"Well, aren't you too? I mean, you might be a dwarf, but you are surely a human!" She paused and pondered what she had said. "Oh dear...I didn't mean to offend you by calling you a dwarf. I am truly sorry."  
"You confuse me ma'am. I am neither a dwarf nor a human. I'm a mere halfling."  
"Halfing?" Christina looked puzzled.  
"You aren't from around here are you?" The halfing poured her a glass of the steaming water.  
"I'm afraid I can't answer that, I don't know where I am."  
"Eh! You are in The Shire. In the pleasant Hobbiton! Samwise found you in the garden. Your wrists and back had some pretty bad gashes in them, we bandaged them for you. I have to say though; you gave old Mr. Gamgee quite a start." The halfing started chuckling merrily.  
"Oh..." Christina started "May I ask who you are?"  
"Yes Yes! Sorry for being rude! Bilbo Baggins at your service." The small man bowed his head politely.  
"Nice to meet you Bilbo Baggins. I'm Christina Fisher." She reached her hand forward, shaking hand with the nice fellow.  
Just then the door opened and another small man entered the room. "She's awake!" He said, startled.  
His hair was also a mob of chaotic brown curls. His eyes were a deep blue. Although, he looked several years younger then Bilbo, he too had a bush of black hair covering his feet.  
"And this young lad." Bilbo wrapped his arm around the boy. "Is Frodo Baggins."  
Frodo came forward with his arm outstretched. "Nice to meet you...?"  
"Christina." She said with a weak smile on her face. "And it's nice to meet you too Frodo Baggins."  
"Right. Christina. Beautiful name." Frodo returned her smile and stepped back.  
"Thank you." Christina blushed shyly. She knew she was going to like it there. 


End file.
